


Alone but together

by mVincentJ



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood, M/M, Mild Gore, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mVincentJ/pseuds/mVincentJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surviving after the world's ended is hard.</p><p>But it's better with your best friend there. Even when he's being annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the cold

**Author's Note:**

> whoops i'm pretty sure that title sounds cliche

He really did think he knew cold. But every time the winters snuck up on him he was proven wrong- or maybe he just forgot how bad it was the last time. Rain to soak, cold to bite and wind to blow them offtrack in their already level crazy-difficult struggle to survive. It was maddening to have to deal with awful weather beating them up as well as what was already going on. Like one of the video games that punished you the further in you got just ramping up the difficulty at a ridiculously unfair pace. At least the hordes never seemed to smell them out in bad weather. 

It meant they could linger in good shelter for longer, barricade down more thoroughly- try and sleep for longer. But after the paranoia of summer, calming down was hard. Shaking long tested instincts and light sleeping patterns wasn't something easily done. Most of the time Dave thought he slept about the same in winter as summer. Shacked up in the most intact house they could find, with, hell, an actual bed- he's still nervously glancing around in the dark. But he'd blame it on the cold, like he always did. It wasn't an outright lie. Yeah, freezing my balls off so I kept watch mostly instead.. that one always went down like a storm. By now Dave was almost trained to _hear_ one of John's eyerolls.

Having only one option in the way of company made you so aware of how someone else ticked. It was closeness on a whole new level. But he wasn't mad about those sarcasm-covered-worry signs. Tiredness means becoming sloppy. Sloppy means getting caught. Bitten, touched, attacked. Eaten. Rolling over he decides to stare at the back of John's head instead of at the door that was making wariness tingle in the back of his head. They were safe enough, for now. It was relaxing to see John's chest rising and falling like that, like a constant piece of proof he's alive and safe. It was nice. Was he asleep, the lucky bastard? He couldn't really tell from his breathing pattern, because sharing a bed doesn't make him a giant creep who watches him sleep for fun. He couldn't even hear it, not with the buffeting wind taking up most of his attention.

It's logical anyhow. That they share. They only have a few blankets between them, and they're better used together. Plus with this gem of a bed to get comfy on- neither of them was going to volunteer to sleep on the floor tonight. Not with the other option being such a rare one. And separating means trouble, besides.

"Dave shut up." The messy dark hair that was barely distinguishable in the dark lightened as he turned his head towards him-and there he was the dumb dweeb that's all he's been going on for. Alone, why bother? Survival instinct only got a guy so far. Not that he'd ever tell John that. It was way too sappy between best friends. He was happy enough for the amusing back and forth they had while running their daily routine and the sarcastic comments as they set up camp and the painfully sincere hugs he gets when there's a nightmare or an injury.

"I'm not talking," God, when did he start shivering.

"You're thinking way too loud, dude."

Dave rolls his eyes right back at him, pointlessly in the dark, and he doesn't protest when John mumbles something about them both being ice-cold (Dave restrains the 'alright's) then "sharing body heat is the only solution!"

Dave didn't protest when he felt an arm firmly wrapping about him, didn't protest when John pulled him close, didn't protest when he mentally noted how firm his biceps are. Wielding that hammer like he did, it did wonders to those babies. Dang.

The shivering slowed and heat over, and he could feel John's smooth skin on his and the warmth they shared should've been enough to toast the building but they were still pretty cold under the blankets. But it was better than before at least. John was good at making things better. Even things that seemed like they never would be. 

The window was rattling, it was mostly broken the one on the wall that was facing John's back- it'd been covered by a piece of plastic they'd managed to tack up but the wind still snuck it's persistent chill into the room and he curls his toes, trying to stop them feeling icy. If it had been a less unnerving night, he'd have pressed his cold toes on John's leg so he'd make a ridiculous noise, then laugh with him afterwards. But the howling wind and pattering rain was sobering him up a little too much for that kinda tomfoolery and japery. He really didn't protest when John thawed him out and didn't let go. If his head was hidden in John's chest it was because the wind pushed it there. They didn't really talk that night, the wind was doing enough of that for the both of them. Just a gentle nudge from John when an arm went numb, a soft goodnight when it seemed John was finally satisfied that he could sleep properly.

He wouldn't admit how well he slept, not even under the duress of one of John's rare tickle attacks.


	2. An embarrassing situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombies really have no sense of privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch out for the new tags friends  
> and for added excitement for us all lets have some john pov

It'd been a few nights now. Staying at that mostly intact building. Dave had been wary as usual but the last few days had been good ones. They'd not needed to go out much with the stockpile of rations they had brought with them, they could just hide out for a few of the deeper depths of winter. It was one of the better days of winter curled up on the unfamiliar bed (with the more familiar blanket) to keep out the cold. 

They'd even managed a fire one of the nights. That was good. No horror stories while sat around it, though. There were enough of those lurking outside looking for a meal, no need to give eachother the heebie-jeebies.

There was a brief incident the first day, though. It was early morning and he groaned and rolled out of bed (and Dave's floppy arms)- with a long joint-popping stretch. Then he looked down at Dave- some light fell over his hair from the unbroken window. Leaning forward he pulled the blankets further up over his chest and neck to leave him less exposed to the cold air.

It was a vulnerable, peaceful look on his face, and it was one that was less and less common to be seen whilst he was conscious. So he left him to what he hoped were nice dreams.

Time for a morning reconnaissance and a piss. Working fast, he pulled his boots and sweater on- he didn't need all his gear for a quick excursion. Post apocalyptic winter was bad, but he was well-enough used to cold to deal for a minute or two. More used to it than Dave, besides. Without any more hesitating he pads out and down the crickety stairs. 

Creeee _aaak._

But they held, it was fine. Out the front door quietly with a crunch of fresh grey snow. Left, then right, like he was crossing a road (zombies are just as lethal as cars, y'know), then he took a few more steps to find a private corner.

Next thing he knew there was dull _crrrunch_. A wet sort of squelch to the sound that made him glance around quickly to find Dave with a baseball bat in hand and his face paler than the snow.

Eyes falling down he notices the thoroughly brained zombie on the floor, bleeding out whatever was left in the animated corpse. Its body was pretty usual, thin and skeletal since it was in the stage of eating itself for sustenance, milky blind eyes and dank hair, rotting clothes. In places the flesh was open and revealed, rips and pulls in its dead skin like an old, battered and uncared for stuffed toy.

Looking at its skull made him feel a little nauseous, so he avoided that. But.

Quite literally caught with his pants down.

After a moment or two of staring at the body he grins and snorts with contained laughter. The laugh following it lasted for a good 20 seconds. Ever so slightly hysterical, but what can you do. He managed to laugh away the fear but Dave was still pale and sickly looking and- he had his shoes on the wrong feet and not even a sweater. The laughter had long trailed off now and thankfully he'd already the mind to zip himself up before turning around, and he was too aware of Dave's bare arms. Time to get out of the snow.

"I'm glad you showed that zombie the business end of your baseball bat and all," Dave's knuckles were well and truly white around the baseball bat and he winced, "why are you half dressed though?" Dave was now staring at the fallen creature and it was time to intervene. Even in his silence, John wasn't allowing him to freeze.

Under his hands his skin felt like an ice lolly, but one running on adrenaline. (So that analogy was shit, so what?) Leading him away, he skipped the creaky step as he lead him back up to their room. No need for any extra excitement of collapsing staircases, not today, no thank you. John had a best friend to calm down. He was on a mission.

When he'd carefully lead him back into the room, shut the door and eased him down onto the still-warm bed he was still silent, and John's gaze was beginning to get a little worried. Not because the zombie might've had friends, but because of Dave. That one had seemed to be a straggler, they should be fine.

"I'd appreciate it an' all if you'd tell me before wandering off." Voice was a bit shakier than usual, but he was holding it together. John toed off his boots and got back into bed. The baseball bat was abandoned on the floor with a thunk. It rolled beneath Dave's side of the bed.

"I didn't want to wake you," Dave gave him a 'are you really that dumb' kinda look and John sighed a little as he found the warm spot on the mattress. So it wasn't exactly a good excuse. "I won't make that mistake again, okay?"

John watched him closely, but he didn't seem to want to snipe at him about it, and instead followed his movements, removing his shoes and curling back up under the blankets. John didn't even complain about how his feet were so cold near his, just bore it and linked their pinkies together as they lay on their sides, face to face. It wasn't a usual thing, but sometimes John knew when to shut his mouth and let his Dave just deal in his own way.

A little while later, when Dave's feet were no longer frozen. "Sorry."

"You'll make it up to me." That was more like Dave, his voice was just a little playful. It was hard to keep grudges when they could die tomorrow. 

"Yeah, you betcha."


	3. the very badass incident of the car cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think the chapter title says it all really

John wakes up in the way that's become normal.

Wrapped around Dave like they were a pair of intertwined paperclips.

That was pretty much the only constant to their mornings (or middle- of-nights, depending on the situation). It was some semblance of normality, routine. When he wakes up like that, he doesn't start worrying about where he is. Which was a bonus? Maybe. Plus the dreams weren't so bad when the person who you know has your back was pressed up close to you.

Well. Back to here and now. They were in the back of the jeep. One they'd 'borrowed' a month or two back (it had served them well, through thick and thin, and running over zombies).Did stealing even matter when the owner was dead? His dad hadn't taught him about this kind of thing...

Aaand they were surrounded by the all too familiar groans of an infected horde.

Fully conscious now, John's arms tightened around Dave. He was barely breathing. Trying to be quiet. He wasn't sure whether if Dave was awake? And if he wasn't, should he even wake him? If they were just going to have to endure this either way, sparing Dave from the experience would be nice at least. Plus, the dumb butt still never slept enough...

The decision was made for him as he felt Dave tense up and let out a louder breath. A sure sign of consciousness. A whisper to Dave so they're both on the same page. With a glance up he saw the zombies pushing past the car.

"The car doors are locked," he gripped the back of Dave's shirt. An unspoken 'just hold onto me right now'. "If we're lucky we can sit through this." he added.

 

t was lucky for them zombies just relied on their sense of smell- and were ridiculously stupid. If they had anymore intellect, they would realise that theirs was the only car that had tracks left in the snow. They'd probably be covered once it started snowing again.

The post-apocalyptic winter was cruel, but John and Dave hadn't risked leaving the engine running for the heating. Too much waste of precious fuel and the car battery. So they relied on sharing body heat and trapping it under the blankets they'd collected on their travels. Risking an unclothed limb out of the blankets was just asking for frostbite to set in, but there was warm skin beneath that soothed as well as warmed both of them.

Sleeping this way had become something that wasn't questioned- there was definitely no need to be questioning their masculinity for some cuddling after the things they'd both seen.

A hoarse "Don't let go of me, I'm too goddamn cold for this." was the goodmorning he got from Dave, and he was happy to oblige him, strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him so close that no infected asshole could ever yank him away. Feeling his heartbeat against his skin had him calming. They were alive. And staying that way. It was like a mantra in his head, one that almost drowned out the sound of the  groaning undead that passed their car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short! i'm hopefully gonna get a dave pov chapter up soon so yeee. look forward to that.


	4. Acidic

"We're out of gas."

Dave swallowed, as the dreaded words left hot emotions trickle into his stomach and knot up some pretty vital organs. Awesome. Nausea and no car. Bro would've told him to walk it off and laughed at his own wordplay, like a royal ass.

"You're sure? There's nowhere to-"

"Don't you think I already checked?" 

John really needed to stop snapping. It really didn't help the situation. Dave just looked at him, adjusted his scratched sunglasses- that he had perched in his hair whilst the light was too low to properly see with them on. Dave really didn't like talking to John when he got into moods like this. Just wanted to give him space to get out of his funk, but it wasn't really an option.

He'd walked away once. They argued, John stormed away- and Dave rightly freaked out. A nearby hoard had appeared in the distance and Dave didn't know where he _was_. It had terrified him and he couldn't even yell, afraid of attracting the undead to chew on his frontal lobes. It had taken half an hour of frantic searching- getting more and more panicky as the zombies steadily approached. 

Thankfully, he'd managed to be lucky enough to find John in an abandoned store, holding some.. shaving cream? With the fear and relief obvious in Dave's face, the argument had been dropped and they had promised as they ran to safety that they'd never separate for an argument again. It was hard not to let their bickering go too far when they were around each other constantly. Kind of darkly ironic (not the funny kind that he used to attribute everything to) that they now saw too much of each other.

John deflated from his sulk and shrugged. "All the nearby vehicles were empty tanked and there's no gas station I can see.." he shrugged a second time as he looked over their temporary home (they'd been sleeping in it for days as they travelled. They still hadn't reached their goal, constantly side-tracked as they avoid hubs of zombie-activity. It was starting to feel hopeless.

John kicked the tyre of their truck. Dave let him have that show of indignation without comment and grabbed their packs out of the car, dropping John's in the mush-snow by his feet. It was waterproof. "Guess we're walking."

It was noon now, and they had no ride. But there was also no infected up in their grill, so they may as well get going. Nothing to wait for.

About an hour later John seems to be his usual self again and links arms with him, despite the aching in their feet. "You know. Zombie apocalypses really put things into perspective," he started. Dave side eyed him. 

"No shit. No one's really worried about anythin' but not getting eaten at the moment." 

"Or their important people not getting eaten. That too." he internally winces, thinking about what they'd come from. He really shouldn't talk about zombie food. Would there be anything waiting for them in the South? Or would it be just as bad? Dave wasn't about to be verbally pessimistic about their fate when John was already mourning.

"Yeah." he said lamely, covering his awkward with a look around for potential enemies or vehicles. None that weren't out of action.

John went quiet again as they walked. Another half hour (if Dave's trusty digital watch was still reliable) and it started to rain on them. Immediately Dave pulled his arm free of his friends' and tucked his head into his hood with a curse. They needed cover, fast.

"Here!" John pulled him by the back of his jacket, wow rude, towards a partially wrecked van. It was crunched up at the front but the back seemed to be relatively intact- and best of all, dry. They hurried into the vehicle- glad to get out of the dangerous precipitation without any unnecessary acid burns. 

John pulled the functional door shut when they got in, giving them maximum cover- and they stayed away from the open part- in case of diagonal rain. From a sheltered area it was almost relaxing to watch the rain. It wet the tarmac outside, and presumably fizzled into any rotten flesh walking about nearby.

John didn't speak and Dave managed not to. It was a moment that needed quiet. Glancing away from the hole to the open elements, Dave slowly shuffled to John's side and leant on him. His feet were aching, but he didn't want to take his shoes off for them to freeze. Besides, this place wasn't safe enough to undress even a little. If zombies approached, they'd need to make a break for it, shoeless or no. 

John didn't seem to catch on about the foot issue and was instead digging in one of the packs and slowly drinking a little water (they'd learnt to ration it in case they couldn't drive to the next place with water, after last time)- Dave took the light bottle off him when he was done, sighing when he'd quenched his thirst.

"This isn't gonna stop for a while," he caps their water bottle and pushes it back into the backpack with a little difficulty, "I'll wake you when it stops if you wanna take a nap or something." John's smiling now and the light is reflecting in his glasses to give his eyes a sparkle that used to just be natural. He takes him up on that offer- he's so tired except for when adrenaline keeps them moving and maybe it was a little nice that John had offered to keep watch and he felt a little safer sleeping because of that.

"Yeah, alright. You can play Cullen this time." he curled up on the hard floor of the van- head pillowed on one of John's thighs like it was his home. He fell asleep feeling a hand rest in his hair, but he was too sleepy in that moment to tell John that he was worth it.

He slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I have a halfwritten chapter that should be done soon that will continue straight on from here so yeah have at it
> 
> potential sads in the next chapter but i'll put any warnings in it that are necessary on the authors note ye

**Author's Note:**

> first ever fanfic on ao3 and first fanfic i've written in years sooo  
> i'd love any an all feedback thanks for reading :)


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